


A better friend

by universalchild



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Good Parent Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, M/M, Maybe more - Freeform, Sad Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, apology, geralt/jaskier - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22703227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchild/pseuds/universalchild
Summary: "You are an idiot." she stated. Her voice was so low, only he could hear her."Hm.""You should make this up to him, you know. That's what friends do." There was a short pause. "Is he your friend?"Geralt opened his eyes again. Her bright eyes stared up to him with determination. "Hm."She snorted. "If I'm honest, you really don't have a way with words. You're more a man of actions." Ciri mumbled, yawning heartily. "He looked really upset back at the Inn. You hurt him, Geralt."  She snuggled closer to him, finding her way under his fur to get a fair share of his warmth. "I'll help you, if you want. He is a good person, and you need a friend. And I think if you show him that you changed, he will forgive you someday."Or how Geralt saves his friendship (or whatever it's going to be) to Jaskier with Ciri's help.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I made up this post on tumblr (links below) and the lovely CayCay84 posted her version of my story already (read it, its great!!!), BUT I actually had an idea what to make out of this story, and here we are.
> 
> I never posted some fanfictions and actually this is the first time in english, but my sweet moonchild and Beta-Reader (seriously I love you for doing this!) helped me out. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this, leave comments if you like, and critics are welcome.
> 
> my post: https://universal-child.tumblr.com/post/190514662547/i-want-a-fanfiction-where-jaskier-meets-geralt-and
> 
> CayCay's version of my post https://archiveofourown.org/works/22481347/chapters/53718445

Everything was fucked.  
At least for Geralt, that is.  
Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of searching, he found Ciri. In the middle of the woods, no less. She was thin, much too thin for his liking and with more dirt on her face than on his boots, but she was alive and now safe with him.  
Well, as safe as someone who travels with him can be.  
The first few weeks of their travels cost him most of his coin, mostly for new clothing and a warm bed for Ciri. But now, as they made their way to the next town, he only had enough to buy them a loaf of bread and maybe a piece of hard cheese - but that's it. He needed to work, to slay something. He needed to get enough coin to ensure Ciri was not only safe, but fed and warm as well.  
It was the only thing he could do, all he was good for. Every other option... well, at this point Geralt had no more options, they were nonexistent. He burnt all his bridges, and now he had to deal with what he had left. At least he had Ciri.  
She was like a blooming flower, opening up for the first time. She learned quickly and yet still found new questions to ask constantly. 'What does that potion do Geralt? Why do your eyes turn black when you drink them? Why do you have spare lute strings?'  
It was almost endearing, but Geralt just wasn't much of a talker. He mainly responded with a 'hmm' or with short sentences. He tried to quench as much of that pesky curiosity as he could, but no matter what he said she wasn't convinced. A simple answer wasn't enough for her, or for him, but he just didn't know what to say.  
'Destiny is an asshole,' he thought bitterly as they rode into another town.  
The sun was setting behind the clouds, and as the dark crept in a cold harsh wind gusted around them.  
Geralt gently lifted the girl from off of his mare, dropping her in front of him.  
She raised an eyebrow at the run-down inn, while he scanned the streets for danger.  
"Seems full." he said, nodding to the other horses in the stable.  
Ciri nodded slowly. "D'you think the inn's full too? Maybe we can warm up for a little bit."  
She was wriggling her hands around, obviously trying to keep them warm. Geralt's heart softened a bit. She had probably been freezing for a while. Hopefully he could find a small job here so they could spend the night.  
They stepped into the Inn, 'The Hag's Head' it was called, and were immediately met with loud cheers and rowdy shouts. As Geralt thought, it was full as hell. Townsfolk were squashed into almost every available seat, tankards of ale sloshing in front of them. They were all talking and laughing and yelling at each other, asking around for what was good that night. The atmosphere seemed light, but Geralt kept his hood up just in case. Because of the crowd, it took a few minutes to reach the bar.  
"How much for a room and a plate of food?" Geralt growled, a tad harsher than necessary. He wouldn't notice if Ciri hadn't kicked him in the shin.  
The Barmaiden was not impressed. "Sad to say we're full, but you can have dinner for few oren."  
Geralt just nodded and handed her the money, then turned around to find a seat as secluded from the rumbling party as possible.  
In the back corner, thank the gods, was a free table and Ciri sat down immediately. With a sigh she stretched, bending her back until it popped. "I don't know how you can stand  
riding all day, Geralt." she complained as he sat on the other side of the tabler. "As sweet as Roach is, my body hurts like hell."  
He smirked and rolled his eyes, but he didn't answer outside of a friendly 'hmm'.  
Ciri watched him for a moment longer. She waited for a response, fingers crossed under the table, to finally have an actual conversation with the calm Witcher. After another beat of silence, she sighed and looked around the inn. Then her eyes lit up.  
"Geralt, look! They have a bard! Over there, in the corner! Do we have enough coin to let him sing? I really want to hear a story."  
"I'm sure we- " Geralt turned around to take a look at this bard and stiffened. 'For fucks sake' he thought bitterly.  
It was Jaskier.  
Out of all bards in the entire continent, he had to run in Julian Alfred Pankratz, the one and only bard stupid enough to chase after a witcher, with loveliest voice Geralt had ever heard in his absurdly long lifetime. Out of all the stupid things Jaskier said during their travels, two things immediately flared up in Geralt's mind. One, Jaskier was wasting his talent in this dingy inn, '-they wouldn't appreciate true art if it bit them in the ass Geralt, to squander your story with raunchy bar jigs is downright offensive-' and two, Jaskier was not interested in any of the folk here, '- Geralt I have traveled with beautiful sorceresses, witchers, inccubbi, and several horny spirits. These townsfolk probably haven't left Velen, why are we wasting our time -' And Geralt was pissed at the stroke of fondness when he thought about his bard. No, not his bard. Not anymore.  
Jaskier sat in the opposite corner of the inn, scribbling in his notebook. It was much thicker than back during their travels, and Geralt wondered what Jaskier had written in his time away. As always, his damn lute was propped up in the chair next to him.  
Geralt cursed under his breath, before he turned back to Ciri. She looked at him with pleading eyes and he looked away. He sighed, suddenly exhausted.  
"We don't have the coin Ciri. Not if you want extra food for the road." Well, it wasn't a lie. Coin was very tight right now. And to her credit, Ciri did not seem upset. In fact, she was looking him up and down with a scary amount of understanding in her eyes. Geralt opened his mouth to say something, but closed it in favor of looking back to Jaskier again.  
At this point he was done writing. He had pushed a hand through his unruly brown curls as he read back through his progress, hunting for anything that needed changing. His eyes stopped, still for just a moment before he looked up, straight into the eyes of the Witcher.  
Jaskier's face shifted rapidly in a few moments. His brows furrowed, before they went slowly up in a silent question, before wiggling slightly with mirth. Then, as if he received a blow to the stomach, Jaskier's face fell to one of realization, before he looked at Geralt bitterly.  
"Do you two know each other?" Ciri asked, observant as ever. Damn children with their damn intuition.  
They both watched as the bard hurriedly packed his stuff in his bag. WIth a disturbing lack of dramatic flair, Jaskier shouldered it and stood up. His attention was drawn only to the Witcher, and Geralt hated to see how much anger and pain was simmering in those cornflower blue eyes. However as Geralt stayed still, more anger seemed to pool within the bard, until he started stomping towards the doors.  
He was going to leave.  
Jaskier was going to leave.  
Geralt realized suddenly that he didn't want that, he wanted to erase that pain in Jaskier's haunting eyes, however he didn't get up. He couldn't follow Jaskier, not with Ciri here. He had to be responsible for once, dammit. Jaskier was.. well... Jaskier. Equal parts brave and foolish, and not the most responsible bard around. Jaskier was impulsive, indulgent, and all consuming. He was so utterly self-sacrificing, yet so unintentionally selfish, and that attracted danger like a magnet. Geralt couldn't give up the fragile peace he had with Ciri, he couldn't throw her into the wildfire that was traveling with Jaskier.  
That's why he watched him go, eyes still locked on the beautiful bard.  
Jaskier was nearly out the door when he stopped. Curiously enough, his focus was now  
on Ciri. Jaskier looked down at the floor, mulling over his thoughts as if putting two and two together. The anger slowly left his face, replaced with a new sort of soft understanding. It was the old Jaskier once more.  
And then he was standing next to Geralt, smiling. "Ah, if it isn't the White Wolf. Long time no see, Geralt." he said firmly, way too firmly for Jaskier.  
Geralt hummed softly, not sure what to say. His last words to the bard were cruel, but Geralt had hoped Jaskier understood that the cruelty was misplaced. That Geralt didn't really mean any of the hateful things he had said. However, late at night, Geralt would lay under the stars and wonder if he pushed too hard, took things too far. Judging by Jaskier's reaction to him now, he most certainly did.  
Jaskier sighed wearily and turned to Ciri. "Hello there, fair Lady. My name is Jaskier." he said more friendly and winked at the girl.  
She looked to Geralt, then back to Jaskier. "I am Fiona." she said tentatively.  
"Do not fret Fiona." Jaskier chuckled, "There is no need to lie. You're secret is as safe with me. You are a companion of Geralt of Rivia, after all. And I must also admit, I knew your mother and father. I was actually there when they were wed."  
Ciri's eyes widened, and she looked at the bard as if he held all the answers to all those burning questions she kept asking. She opened her mouth, presumingly to blurt out every one of her thoughts at once, however she hesitated. She looked back at Geralt earnestly, asking a silent question.  
"We know each other. You can trust him." Geralt said shortly. "I traveled with him for a bit."  
"Twenty-three years to be precise, but after all, what is time to a Witcher?" The bitterness in his voice made Geralt flinch. He looked up to the bard, who had closed his eyes for a moment, as if pained.  
"Do you want to take a seat, Jaskier?" Ciri asked. "I have a lot of questions for you." Geralt snorted, but was shocked to see Jaskier shake his head.  
"No, thank you, my dear. I really must be going. Sadly, I need to find a place to sleep, since everything here is full."  
"You can come with us, if you want." Geralt blurted out. "It's safer."  
Jaskier raised an eyebrow, but sat down nevertheless, striking up a conversation with Ciri.  
And gods above, they did a lot of talking. Ciri was a flurry of questions, asking all about how Jaskier and him had met, what their travels were like, what monsters they had slayed, and all about what Cintra was like when they had visited. Jaskier, surprisingly, answered everything with a large amount of honesty, even if his retelling of events sounded more akin to his usual epic tales. He went into very colorful descriptions of the situation, and his detailed explanations of the monsters had even Geralt paying attention.  
The stories didn't stop until they were well out into the forest once more, miles away from the town. Geralt had piled a few logs up to make a nice bonfire.  
"-and then the whole building collapsed under the force of the mighty Djinn, but the Witcher and the Sorceress were alive and unharmed!" Jaskier ended his story with a few well put words as he finally sat down to the fire, Ciri next to him.  
She looked up at Jaskier as if he held all of life's secrets. "Amazing!" She rubbed at her eyes, yawning. "Can I hear another story?"  
"Oh no, my sweet child, it's getting late and I can hear how tired you are."  
Geralt looked up from where he was sitting. "You should go to bed. It's been a long day."  
She looked like she wanted to argue, but another yawn fell over her and all the fight left her body.  
"Thank you for telling me all of these stories, Jaskier." she said with a small smile.  
"Thank you for listening." Jaskier said while ruffling her blond hair, which made Ciri giggle "Sleep well, darling."  
And with that she padded over to her bedding. She wished a good night to Geralt and Roach, and everything fell quiet.  
"She's lovely." Jaskier whispered lowly, enough for Geralt to hear.  
He grunted in affirmation and than a heavy silence fell between the two of them.  
Geralt craved silence, especially when he was with Jaskier. And yet.  
And yet.  
For the first time in all his years, he wished Jaskier would start talking, like he  
always did after every mean encounter with the witcher. He wished Jaskier would turn on him and shout and scream about anything and everything, so he could just know what to do and how to fix this. But for some reason, things are different now. The bard sat there, silently tuning his lute, playing a few notes here and there but no words were spoken.  
And Geralt was feeling very uncomfortable, because for the first time in his life, he had so much to say.  
"Jaskier, I-" he began, but choked on his words. Jaskier looked up, his eyes cold.  
"I am not interested in what you have to say, Geralt." he said calmly.  
Geralt exhaled loudly, a frustrated growl bubbling in his throat. He watched Jaskier impatiently, how the bard dropped his lute next to his pack, how he started to poke at the fire with a stick. The fire was nice and bright, which means there was no reason behind his poking except to avoid speaking to Geralt and that made him, to put it mildly, absolutly fucking furious. He was Geralt of Rivia, and for once in his miserable life, he had something to say.  
"Look, I'm sorry-" he started but Jaskier shook his head.  
"It's okay." he said simply, still poking in the fire.  
"But I want to-" Geralt started again, but the bard simply wasn't willing to listen.  
"I really don't care about what you want, Geralt, and this is not the place and the time to discuss it. So mayhaps we can have this talk another time? Oh, here, I have an idea. How about never?" He finally threw the stick into the fire and looked up. "And just so you don't misinterpret my words, let me make this clear, Geralt: We don't need to talk about this, because I won't forgive you."  
Witchers shouldn't feel emotions. Or at least, that's what everyone tells themselves - Geralt included. But Geralt felt like he was floating, like he was so far away from this moment, his heart clenching at the words. He didn't want to fight with Jaskier, not again.  
"I understand."  
"Oh do you? Do you really understand why I am angry, Geralt?" Jaskier stared bitterly at the fire, dropping the stick. "Oh, let me guess, you still think it was because of what you said during our fan-fucking-tastic trip to the mountains, right?" Finally he looked up, directly into Geralt's eyes, waiting for a reaction. But Geralt didn't react. "Listen to what I say now, because I will only say this once." He leaned forward, speaking with a low and broken voice.  
"It's one thing if you don't like my singing, or if you feel burdened in having to save me, shut me up, whatever. I am well aware that I am annoying, no one stays long because of it. But here is the thing - you never left me, no once in twenty-three years. Not until that goddamn day on the mountain where you tried to blame me for your failures because I happened to be there, and I am done Geralt. I know that psycho sorceress broke your heart or whatever is inside of you-" Geralt flinched, but Jaskier continued. "- but because you're a fucking stubborn dickhead, you decided to use your last wish to bind your life to her. And guess what, that's not my fucking fault. And little Cirilla over there? You didn't have to choose the law of surprise, but you did. You did, on your own, yet again. You could have taken all the coin in the world, but you just had to prove a fucking point, didn't you? You had to play with destiny and you lost, or no-" He looked fondly over to the girl. "-you won more than you ever deserved with her. But all of this was your doing, not mine. And, you know, I could go on and on, but I won't because it's not the point. The point is, I could have lived with it. With everything, all of that pain you hurled at me, because I knew you were hurting and you had to throw that hurt at someone else, I get it. It happens all the fucking time. So I left you, like usual, to clear your mind," He shaked his head, looking away for a moment. "You did this thousands of times over all these years, but on that day something changed. You didn't come for me after that, like you always did. You left, for good. I thought of us as friends or whatever you want to call it, and I believed that we would always find each other, until you didn't. You left, leaving me behind like I never existed. And I was, no, I am still angry with you. And when I saw your face tonight, in the Tavern, I just... I lost it. You, the famed White Wolf of the Continent, looked like a scared little rabbit - ready to bolt out at the first good moment, and yet you couldn't because of your child surprise. You still didn't want to see me again, even after all this time. Which means you still don't want me. And don't you dare lie, I saw it in your eyes."  
Jaskier abruptly got up, walking around the fire to his own bed roll, breathing heavily for a moment. Geralt watched him closely, saw how his hands were shaking and heard his heart thumping fast in his chest. Then Jaskier looked at him, again. "We are not friends, Witcher-" and he spit his words out like a piece of fouling meat. "I'm not even sure, we ever were, so take your pitiful apology and shove it up your ass. I don't want it, and I don't need it. I'm here for the girl, because she looked just as confused as I was. She looked like she needed a good conversation - you know, that thing you are so wretched at. And when we arrive in the next village, I will be out of your hair again." He closed his eyes again, shaking his head softly, as if he didn't want to say any more than he already had.  
"I'm going to bed." he said, and with that, he laid down, threw one of his furs over himself, and everything went dead silent.  
Geralt wasn't prepared for this outburst of emotions, like always, but surprisingly he found himself agreeing with Jaskier. This wasn't the time, nor the place to have a true conversation about what he did wrong, and what happened in the past. The Witcher sighed deeply. He never thought that he would have a heart to heart conversation with anyone, hell most people didn't believe witchers had hearts, but here he was, feeling miserable about pushing his only friend away. And he couldn't change it, not with words.  
After some time he got up and slowly moved to his own bedding. It was a quiet night, cloudy and cold. He could smell the frostbitten north wind in the air, and he was sure that it would bring snow their way. He laid down next to Ciri, threw a fur over himself and closed his eyes.  
The girl next to him shuffled.  
"You are an idiot." she stated. Her voice was so low, only he could hear her.  
"Hm."  
"You should make this up to him, you know. That's what friends do." There was a short pause. "Is he your friend?"  
Geralt opened his eyes again. Her bright eyes stared up to him with determination. "Hm."  
She snorted. "If I'm honest, you really don't have a way with words. You're more a man of actions." Ciri mumbled, yawning heartily. "He looked really upset back at the Inn. You hurt him, Geralt." She snuggled closer to him, finding her way under his fur to get a fair share of his warmth. "I'll help you, if you want. He is a good person, and you need a friend. And I think if you show him that you changed, he will forgive you someday."  
He grunted again, laying his arm over her and nodded slowly.  
He needed her help, and maybe this is why destiny brought her to him.  
Not only because she needed him. Geralt needed her, to be a better man.  
A better friend.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the seconds chapter!
> 
> Sorry that it's so late, I don't find much time in between of working and living my life to write a lot, but I'm already working on the thrid chapter, so stay close :)
> 
> Special thanks again to my dear beta, you make my chapters so perfect, you are a blessing.

"Say, Jaskier," Ciri said, as Geralt settled his cloak over her shoulders, "Why is it that you don't have a warmer cloak?"  
The bard snorted, bitterness lining his posture. It started snowing a few hours ago, and the forest and the fields were already coated under a thick blanket of it. It would be beautiful, if it weren't for the fucking wind from the north. It was fucking cold, and all of them - even Geralt - could feel it in their bones. It would take them a few hours still to trek to the next village, and while the Witcher didn't need to regulate his temperature too much, and Ciri was swaddled up to her eyes in warm clothes, Jaskier was surprisingly bare. He walked a little ways behind them, his only coat wrapped tightly around himself, trying to hide his bluish lips.  
"I got robbed a few weeks ago." he answered slowly. "Bunch of thugs, knocked me out and took all of my belongings... well, except for my lute." He patted the instrument in the case on his back fondly, before shrugging. "I really only cared about my lute, but even so I haven't been able to make enough money yet to buy myself a warmer cloak."  
Ciri frowned. "You must be freezing."  
"Don't be concerned about little ole' me, Princess, I will be fine. We will soon arrive at the village, and I will get to take a nice warm bath, and all will be right again." He smiled genuinely at her, but failed to stop his chattering teeth.  
Geralt eyed Jaskier warily, then turned to Ciri. She looked earnestly concerned, mouth trembling as she looked Jaskier up and down, from his hair to his shoes. Her fingers twitched to  
Geralt's coat around her. The Witcher sighed wearily, before stopping.   
"Hmm.." He grumbled.   
"Uhh, what was that, Geralt? I've only a passing knowledge of 'witcher' speak, and what grunts I can decipher are usually in much less pleasant situations."   
Geralt rolled his eyes, and looked back at Jaskier. "It would be easier if you two ride on Roach. We would move faster, and I don't want to worry about you two freezing to death."  
Ciri brightened instantly, but Jaskier raised a skeptical eyebrow.  
"Did you just make a joke?" Jaskier quirked a smile.  
Why would he think Geralt was joking? The witcher shook his head. "You're not the only one who wants a warm bath, bardling. Just get on Roach."  
"Geralt, in all the years we've traveled, this is the first time you have ever asked me to sit on Roach, excluding near death situations." he deadpanned toneless. "So forgive me if I find it a little strange. But either way, as I said earlier, I look worse than I feel."  
"Why didn't you let him on Roach?" Ciri asked, annoyed.  
Geralt sighed, more annoyed.   
"I was an idiot." he answered honestly, "But now I've changed my mind. So get on Roach, and maybe we can reach the village before dawn." Even still, Jaskier watched the witcher closely, as if he would change his mind the moment Jaskier touched his mare.  
Looking for help, Geralt turned again to Ciri, unsure of what to say next. She only answered with a pitiful look.  
He grunted, and closed his eyes. "It doesn't matter if you can or can't bear the cold, you shouldn't have to. Your anger for me is no reason to freeze yourself to death. So please get on the horse."  
Jaskier clenched his jaw, still trembling. After a freezing moment of silence he opened his mouth, as to shout at Geralt, but then he sighed. The bard helped Ciri up, then sat behind her in the saddle, smiling mildly at her while she threw Geralt's coat over the both of them.  
She was beaming by the time they started moving, and even Roach looked in better spirits now that the pace had quickened.   
"My Lady, I do believe we are in the presence of a legend. Has Geralt told you the stories of this lovely mare we are astride? Her tale, pun intended, is one quite full of heroism and loyalty, because our Roach here-"   
And so, with a chatter to his teeth, he started telling her all he knew about the mare, and then moved on to everything that Geralt had told him when he could not talk from experience anymore. It seemed Jaskier had quite a lot to say about Roach. To be honest, it made Geralt a little pleased. The Witcher wasn't a talker, but he took great pride in his companion. If a stranger were to ask him about Roach, they would be met with a flood of information. It's probably the only subject Geralt enjoys talking about, however it never really seemed like anyone was willing to listen.  
Belatedly, Geralt remembers that Jaskier had always asked him a lot of questions about his horse. Mostly after long days of walking in the sun, or when they escaped a rather nasty monster. Everytime Jaskier was worn out or wounded, and didn't have the strength to speak, he wanted Geralt to talk. 'To calm his nerves,' he would say, and he told the Witcher this often. It was odd that he's only now remembering it.  
Soon Geralt was looking back on other memories, re-examining them in a new light. He remembered a time only stopped, when he found, the bard was   
sleeping, looking relaxed and safe, when he whined only hours before of  
not ever sleeping again.  
He was still thinking about Ciri's question, if Jaskier was even his friend.  
It was useless to lie. Of course Jaskier was.... Something.  
Jaskier was the first human who wasn't afraid or disgusted by him - excluding the other witchers back in Kaer Morhen. He was always willing to accompany Geralt on his Path, even when it led him to less than desirable destinations. He claimed he joined the witcher for his own craft, his music and poetry, but let's face it Jaskier was a real friend to Geralt. The bard cared for him, and wasn't that a fucking revelation to the witcher.  
As Geralt kept walking, more and more thoughts began to swirl in his mind. Whenever a rather nasty monster had wounded him, even if it was never fatal - it hardly was - Jaskier always got Geralt into the care of a healer. Jaskier always asked him about his well-being, tried to make him laugh when he was lost in his own mind, kept his thoughts from straying too dark, all the things a real friend would do.  
But what did Geralt know about having real friends?  
He had his brothers-in-arms, he had his child surprise, he had whatever-the-fuck Yennefer was, and he had Vesemir. All people who relied on Geralt to give them something. Peace, or protection, or a good fuck, or a just an extra pair of hands to help. So what the hell was Jaskier? What did Jaskier get out of being around Geralt? Why did he want a friendship? And why did Geralt keep going back for the bard?  
As the sun was prepared to set, Geralt finally snapped out of his thoughts. A small village appeared in the distance, an oasis standing before another stretch of forest. Jaskier and Ciri stopped talking then, both of their cheeks flushed red. They looked calm and relaxed upon the mare, the bard's head resting on the girls, and Geralt wished it would always be like this. He wished that he could always have this moment of peace and happiness, but what did a Witcher know about these things? His life was full of hate and hurt, and he needed his time to adjust to.... well, to being a good friend. He was already twenty years too late.   
He hummed softly as he approached the gates of the village and Roach stopped walking. He helped Ciri down, and Jaskier followed shortly after, stretching  
his back.   
"Thank you, Roach." he said smiling, petting her neck. He then hesitated, before turning to Geralt. He looked the Witcher over.  
"And thank you, Geralt." he was earnest, but his face betrayed no emotion.  
"You're welcome, Jaskier." Geralt nodded and caught a quick glimpse of Ciri grinning before she moved to take Roach's reins. They quickly found a stable for Roach, filling her crib with an ungodly amount of hay and petting her all the while. After she was warm and tended to, the three travelers quickly entered the first inn available. It was nearly empty, only a few villagers were sitting inside, calmly talking among themselves. They didn't even bother looking up as Geralt passed.  
"How much for a room?" Geralt asked the innkeeper once he reached the bar.   
She was a curvy, strong woman, with unruly hair and a sharpness to her gaze. Her right hand naturally fell to rest on her hip, and she waved a cloth at the witcher with her left.  
"Ten Orens for you, Witcher," she said. "No negotiating. The war is coming, times are tough, and as you can see I have very few guests."  
Geralt's heart sank. They had a meager amount of coins left, five or six at most. He nodded, grunting a thanks to the woman. It was not the worst thing to happen after all. They could try the next inn, or at worst bunk with Roach for a night. At least she hadn't chased them out with pitchforks and torches.  
Like a whirlwind, Jaskier strut his way over to the bar. "Good evening my lovely lady. I see that you're in dire need of some entertainment, and lo and behold - entertainment has come to you! My name is Jaskier, mayhaps you've heard of me?" He wiggled his brow for emphasis, and surprisingly the innkeeper smiled and nodded. Was Jaskier really that famous?  
"Ah, then you know exactly what I am capable of! How about, as a fair trade, I sing the whole night for you and your guests, and you give us a room?"  
She raised an eyebrow at the offer, and scanned her guests. It was a dull atmosphere, no laughing, no excessive drinking. Anyone could see that the lack of mirth was bad for business. After a brief moment of deliberating, the innkeeper sighed wearily.  
"Okay, you've got yourself a deal bardling. But, any extra coin you make goes to me, okay? To pay back the meals I'm going to make for you all. Trust me, you three look like you could use the extra sustenance." She gave Ciri a tired smile.  
"Thank you m'lady, it's a noble offer you make, and we'll certainly accept it." He bowed slightly.   
"So then, food first," before Jaskier could protest the kindness the innkeeper had already gone, striding to the kitchens. Jaskier looked to Geralt and shrugged, and Geralt grunted in response. Ciri and Geralt made their way to an empty table while Jaskier stood by the bar, waiting for food and making small talk with the locals. After a while, he appeared at the table with three steaming plates of roast boar and mash, and a hunk of bread to share.  
"You know Jaskier, you should stay with us forever," Ciri said happily after taking her first big bite of bread. "Everything is getting more and more expensive, and-"   
She stopped, looking at Geralt with a guilty smile. " -and I can't take any contracts now. Not when Ciri hasn't been properly trained. And besides, this cold will keep even the monsters at bay." Geralt ended the sentence with a sad smile. The jobs these days weren't easy to get, but he couldn't leave Ciri in an inn for who knows how long, not when Nilfgaard is still looking for her. And what's more, the monsters have been few and far between - again, because of the war.  
Jaskier's grin faded. He shifted from side to side.   
"Actually, I don't plan to stay with you, my sweet child," he mumbled. "I assume that  
the both of you will stay for the winter in Kaer Morhen, yes?"   
Geralt nodded. "Well, I have plans to leave for the coast when we reach White Orchard, which means we will... part ways..."  
"Why are you going to the coast in the middle of the Winter?" Geralt asked directly, his voice rough and surprised. "It's just a fucking cold and windy mess there, not a good place for the winter if you ask me." Again he was speaking before thinking, but he only noticed when Ciri kicked his shin. Jaskier looked a little taken aback, folding his hands in his lap.  
"Thanks for your opinion, Geralt, but last I recall my choices are none of your business, so maybe you should mind your manners and leave me to do what I please." he snarled. Geralt flinched, expecting more, but Jaskier was apparently going to leave it at that. The bard turned his attention to Ciri and his whole body changed. He framed his face with both hands, a wide smile on his face.   
"Oh, my dear witcherling, you will have so much fun in Kaer Morhen, I'm sure of it! Our dear Witcher here is a little puppy when Vesemir is around him and-" and just like that Jaskier was his sweet self again, avoiding Geralts eyes the whole time. He was multitasking, eating and talking almost simultaneously, as he told Ciri about Kaer Morhen. As soon as his food was gone, but before Geralt could get the chance to speak, Jaskier was already up and preparing to play for the room.   
Ciri looked impressed. "It's unbelievable how much he knows." she stated.  
"Hm".  
"I'm being serious Geralt. Did you really stop to listen to him? In the past few hours I learned so much about all sorts of people, cultures, history and art. You give him one word and he floods you with knowledge, and he has so much fun with it, too! He should be a teacher or maybe a scholar, not a poor bard playing for food in an Inn."  
"He was." Geralt answered, drinking his ale. "A scholar, that is. He got bored teaching, he wanted to see the world. Oxenfurt would take him back gladly, but he doesn't care. He is here because he chooses to be."  
It took a moment until he realized what he said. He sat straighter, his eyes falling to Ciri in shock, because the thought had never crossed his mind until just then. Jaskier wanted to travel with Geralt.  
In all the years they had traveled together, Geralt had tried to have a say in where Jaskier should go. Most of the time, it would be during a hunt, or a particularly nasty contract. No matter what Geralt said or did though, Jaskier did what he wanted to do. To be honest it saved Geralt's life more than once. Jaskier always came for him, even now. And in the past, Jaskier's appearances brought an overwhelming destiny into Geralt's life. Because of Jaskier's fucking childish behavior, Geralts wished away his voice. In return, he got to meet Yennefer. Because of Jaskier's tendency to bed wedded women, Geralt accompanied the bard to Princess Pavetta's wedding. He bore witness to Pavetta and Guny's union, and he claimed the law of surprise. Because Jaskier slept in, Geralt and Yennefer chased the dragon to its peak and received his words of wisdom. He may have lost Yennefer to the truth, but it was the push to finally find his child surprise. With all the voices around him gone, he could hear the voice within him - and that led him directly to Ciri, who was still looking at him with a wrinkled forehead. He blinked.  
"Hm."  
She rolled her eyes softly, as they made their way through the inn.  
"So, he chooses to be here." she repeated with a hum. He grunted softly, and turned to watch Jaskier sing. The bard had just started up a rousing tune - "The Fishmonger's Daughter". It was a raunchy song, but it did its job. The crowd began to awaken, and they started  
singing along with him, clapping their hands and stomping with the feet.They cheered when he ended the song, hollering for an encore. Jaskier bowed graciously, shooting an apologetic glance to his traveling companions, before starting up another tune.   
A few hours later Ciri was leaning against Geralt's shoulder, her eyelids drooping heavily. Jaskier just finished his last story, and bowed as the few straggling villagers left with a mumbled goodnight. The innkeeper looked pleased when Jaskier gave her all the coins he earned. She handed the bard a key and led him up the stairs. The bard turned and motioned for Geralt and Ciri to follow.  
"It's time." Geralt said softly, rousing Ciri and helping her stand.  
The room was small, a little fire crackling in the hearth. The only furniture in the room was a bed and a meager dresser, however the room was large enough for at least two people - and it was clean, so it could have been much worse. Geralt helped Ciri out of her cloak and   
shoes, and immediately she flopped down on the bead. Before her head even hit the pillow, she was asleep. He threw a blanket over her with a chuckle.  
"It's been a long day. I'm surprised she managed to stay up for this long," Jaskier said slowly. He took one of the scratchy blankets, and spread it on the floor.  
"What are you doing?"  
"Making my camp for the night."   
Geralt rubbed his forehead, sighing. "Why are you doing this, Jaskier?"  
Jaskier turned around to him, looking surprised by the question.  
"Because this bed is too small for the three of us, and I know you. You're not going to take any jobs until Ciri is safe in Kaer Morhen, or at least capable of fighting for herself, so you won't have the money for a bed until then. Whereas I, a master of the arts, can always get a spare coin at any inn I please, as you can obviously see. So, it's only fitting that you take the bed for now, while you can."  
Geralt stood silently. Jaskier held his breath, waiting for the witcher to speak, but growled annoyed after the silence became deafening.   
"For fuck's sake Geralt! Just go to bed, will you?" Jaskier turned back to his blanket on the floor, grabbing a small pillow from a bench. He threw it on the floor with more force than necessary.   
"Don't be stupid." Geralt snorted. "The bed is plenty big enough for three, and we still need to reach White Orchard before the snow whips up again. That means we have a two day's walk, more or less. You don't have to -" A movement in the corner of their eyes draws their gaze to the bed. Ciri pulled her legs to her chest, her arms wrapping tightly around them. They could see her breath puff out, and she shivered slightly under the covers. A quick glance to the broken window caused Geralt and Jaskier to sigh in unison. It was a bright night, a thick coat of snow coating the ground outside. The clouds broke open and revealed a shiny moon, illuminating the room.   
"And maybe it would be warmer for all of us, if you slept on the bed." Geralt added quietly. The bard sighed deeply before he nodded. Surrendering, he collected everything from the floor and threw it on the bed. He said nothing as he kicked off his boots and laid down, to Ciris's left side. Geralt took his armor off carefully, piling it on one side of the bed, right next to his swords. With a small burst of aard, he extinguished all the candles and got settled on the other side of Ciri.  
Jaskier laid one arm around the girl, pressing her between Geralt and him, rubbing her arm to warm her up. After a moment, she stopped shivering. He looked over at Geralt, who was laying rather uncomfortably at the edge of the bed.   
"For such a small lady she takes up much space." he mumbled.  
"Don't be surprised when you wake up tomorrow with her foot in your face." Geralt grunted, while he arranged the blanket over the three of them.   
Jaskier laughed softly. "She is a wonderful child. You're lucky that she's your destiny and not a foul mouthed brat. She's nice, well mannered, her clothes are to die for..." He  
stopped for a second, then continued. "Actually, now that I think of it, she is everything that you're not."   
"Fuck off, Jaskier." But Geralt couldn't stop himself from smiling.  
Offended the bard pressed his finger on his lips, before pointing to the girl between them. "Language!"  
Silence fell over them afterwards, but for the first time it was a peaceful silence. Jaskier curled around the girl, pressing her close to him to provide as much warmth as he could give.He sang to her in his softest voice, a little fairytale about a girl eating a poisoned apple. He sounded tired, yawning here and there, but still he put all his heart in his voice. Each of the dwarfs had a different voices, and even the evil queen had her own style. As the tale continued, Ciri started to unfold like a flower. She stretched her legs to the end of the bed, at which point she kicked Geralt in the stomach with her knees. After a few more jostled movements on Ciri's part, the mattress finally settled and both the bard and the witcher breathed a sigh of relief.  
The past few weeks had taken their toll on Geralt. He felt restless andconcerned about what happened to Ciri before he found her, and even worse,  
what lay before them now that he had. This was the first time in weeks that he was actually sleeping in a bed, not forest floor. Surprisingly, he felt tired, which was a rare occurrence. The last time he had felt this weary was a year ago, on the mountain with Yennfer.  
He still missed her, but it was different now. He knows, no, he felt that he lost her a long time ago. If he was being honest, it was not for the worse. He knew she would find her way back into his life, one way or another. He could always sleep next to her some day, and finally get some real rest. Or he could wait for Kaer Morhen, where he could sleep as Ciri was placed under the attentive watch of Vesemir. But he forced this destiny on all of them, and part of Geralt knew he could never rest with the guilt of that.   
And yet, there was still the bard. He had started talking to Geralt, after he snatched some bread from the floor. He was all noise and excitement. He didn't know why Jaskier came, but he did. And over the years, he had left - for a few days, months, or years at a time. And then he always came back, because the both of them were always sure that they were welcomed in each other's lives. They were sure it would be the same as it had always been. And if Geralt was honest, he really liked it. After he got used to the barbed and well-spoken young man, he was pleased to watch the bard expanding his talents over the years. He enjoyed seeing how Jaskier changed and grew older, getting a little wiser with each year. At least on the inside.  
Geralt opened his eyes and he noticed suddenly that Jaskier didn't look young because he had aged well, but because he didn't age at all. He looked exactly like he did back at the inn where they exchanged words for the first time. His skin was still smooth, his hair full and dark, it couldn't-  
"I can hear you thinking, Geralt." The Witcher snapped back to reality by the sleepy voice. Jaskiers eyes were still closed, and for a crazed moment Geralt wasn't sure if he dreamed the words or not. But then, one eye opened just a smidge, looking directly at Geralt.  
"You need to sleep too, Wolf. Dawn is close."  
Geralt hummed. "Even when you're angry, you are still too nice. People may take advantage of that. People like me, I guess." he mumbled with a sleepy voice. Jaskier flinched.  
"Just because you are unkind, doesn't mean I'll treat you the same." Jaskier whispered, looking down at his hand that was spread between the witcher and the girl. "And just because you lost my trust, doesn't mean I don't care about you. I guess... maybe I'm being nice because I still have a foolish hope that one day you'll come back for me. Only me."  
It still stung in Geralt's heart, to hear this, when everything else seemed a little like before their fight. He moved his hand slowly next to the bards, so close to feel the heat radiating from it, but not close enough to touch. He didn't answer.  
Jaskier looked up with a question in his eyes, but it faded away, disturbed by a hearty yawn. The distance between them closed, and their pinkies rubbed together.   
"We should sleep."  
"You're right."  
Jaskier snorted. "Good night, Geralt."  
"Good night, Jaskier."


End file.
